He flipped the television off. ’ ‘Pah! How can it be romantic? That is silly. Anna was sitting before the fire a little distance from him—Ennison himself remained standing. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred.
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